way to the north-east, as we turn our backs upon Ludlow, appears a noble range of hills, whereof we have caught frequent glimpses during our peregrinations about the old town. And now, as we fare along through a pleasant, pastoral country, the dark, volcanic-looking crest of Titterstone Clee Hill looms grandly above the rolling woodlands that clothe his lower flanks.
'Cle Hills,' as Leland informs us, 'be holy in Shropshire. The highest Parte of Cle Hills is cawlyd Tyderstone. In it is a fayre playne grene, and a fountaine in it. There is another Hill a 3 Miles distant from it cawlyd the Brown Cle.'
Geologically these hills are somewhat remarkable. A cap of erupted basalt crowns the summits of the Clees, having by its harder texture protected the hills from the effects of denudation, and preserved from destruction the underlying coal measures that now form the loftiest coalfield in Britain. Hence it comes to pass that, in these utilitarian days, the 'fayre playne grene and the fountaine' have given place to coalpits, and to those yawning stone quarries that yield the famous road metal locally known as 'Dhu stone.'
Leaving the old timbered farmhouse of Dodmore upon our left, we descend into a pleasant vale, cross the Ledwych brook and bear away for Bitterley; following a narrow, unfrequented lane, with Titterstone making a brave show in the direction whither we are bound.
Set amidst green summer foliage, Bitterley village looks attractive enough as we traverse its one quiet thoroughfare; but in winter-time, as the name suggests, the district is bleak and chilly:
'Bitterley, Bitterley under the Clee,
Devil take me if I ever come to thee!'
runs a rustic couplet that tells its own tale.
The Haunted House, Bitterley.